Cough Syrup
by strangeangelsxx
Summary: Blaine's been there before. He stared death in the face. His brother Cooper watched him do it, and watched him survive. Based around lyrics to "Cough Syrup." TRIGGER warnings and slight spoilers for 3x14.


Author's Note: Another attempt at angst. I really want B and Coop to have a good relationship because Blaine's had a hard enough time as it is finding acceptance and love. I'm serious: if Cooper is not supportive of Blaine I'm going to die inside. I've been listening to Cough Syrup on repeat for days, and I keep thinking about what all of this means to Blaine. We haven't seen much of his story yet, but maybe we'll get to see that in the next episode.

New chapter of Unexpected tomorrow. I couldn't write happiness when this was dwelling in me.

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Glee or Young the Giant.

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><p><em>These fishes in the sea they're staring at me<em>

Cooper was home early the first time Blaine came home in tears. Cooper was eighteen and Blaine was ten, but that didn't make a difference to the brothers; they were best friends. Cooper knew Blaine was having a hard time at school, and it didn't make it easier that he was moving away at the end of the year. He was sitting on his bed, a notebook open against his knees and a pen tap- tap- tapping away against the metal coil that bound the pages. Blaine almost went right past Cooper's open door to his own room, but thought better of it and chucked his backpack down in the hallway. Cooper frowned; it wasn't like Blaine to neglect his things that way.

"What's up B?" he shuffled over to make room at the head of his bed and let Blaine climb in next to him. Blaine shifted uncomfortably, a conflicted look crossing his expressive hazel eyes. It took him a long time to finally find the words.

"Am I a fag?" it barely came out a whisper, but Blaine may as well have been screaming. Cooper felt the bottom of his stomach drop.

"Who told you that?" Cooper demanded, trying to remain calm for Blaine's sake. He pulled his little brother close and felt him start to shake with quiet sobs.

"Some kids at school kept saying it. They told me that G-god hates fags," Blaine hiccuped, clutching at Cooper's favourite t-shirt. On any other day he would have shoved Blaine off with an indignant cry for stretching the material, but today he ran his knuckles up and down Blaine's spine to soothe him.

"Well you're not," he said simply, fiercely, "And God doesn't hate you."

He never found out who called his little brother such a horrible word, even if he had his suspicions. It wasn't the last time Blaine came home sobbing or scuffed up, and until the time he left for college Cooper was there ever day to stick him with bandaids or funny songs. Cooper promised that he would be there for Blaine, no matter what. Their parents weren't the worst people, but they were gone a lot. Blaine needed his big brother, and he got it.

* * *

><p><em>I'm coming up now coming up now out of the blue, These zombies in the park they're looking for my heart<em>

Cooper had sensed that there might have been something else behind the fear in Blaine's voice that day. More than the idea that kids were calling him those names, maybe Blaine was afraid that it was true. In that way that kids can sense another's insecurities and fears and use it against them, perhaps there was a grain of truth.

He had been the first person Blaine had come out to. Blaine was thirteen and somehow surviving the bullying. He had a few friends, but he still called his brother more often than anyone. The call had come on a Sunday morning, and Cooper had almost been pissed until he picked up and heard his baby brother's voice. Blaine sounded nervous and scared, like he hadn't slept all night even if he'd wanted to.

"What's up B?" he said, the way he always did. This seemed to make Blaine relax, if the shuddering exhale were any indication.

"I want to tell you something," Blaine took in a deep breath that resonated through the phone line to his brother. They were silent for no more than a minute, though it felt like a million years; Cooper waiting for Blaine, Blaine waiting for courage.

"Coop... I'm gay."

Cooper remained silent on the other end of the line, and Blaine couldn't keep the tears at bay anymore. A few slipped silently down his cheeks and he opened his mouth to apologize and hang up before Cooper could start screaming at him. It was a mistake to ever tell anyone-

"You're my brother. No matter who you love," he said, interrupting Blaine's panic attack, "That hasn't changed. _You_ haven't changed."

The flood gates opened and Blaine and Cooper cried together, miles apart, but never closer than they were that Sunday morning. The bullies weren't going to ever go away – in fact, they were about to get much, much worse – and there was no way of knowing how their parents were going to react. But today they would laugh and cry and talk the entire day. Cooper would plug his phone into its charger and lean against the wall and Blaine would curl up on his bed and fall asleep the sound of his brother's voice.

* * *

><p><em>One more spoon of cough syrup now<em>

Telling their parents was the hard part. Cooper sat anxiously at his kitchen table with his phone in front of him, drumming his hands nervously on the smooth wood surface. Surprisingly, it wasn't Blaine who called him.

"What's up B?" he answered immediately, assuming that his little brother would either be calling to celebrate to cry.

"Cooper?" it was their mom, "Honey..."

"I know Ma," he sighed into the phone, "But he's still Blaine."

He listened to the woman that raised him sob and fall apart. The he began to talk.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the phone line, Blaine was creeping away from the kitchen, knowing that Cooper was there for their mom. He found their father on the deck in the back yard. The weather wasn't cold anymore, but in the fading dusk it was starting to get chilly. Blaine didn't say anything, just moved to stand next to his dad and lean on the railing that he'd built with Cooper five summers ago. Blaine had run around the back yard flying his toys in circles and pretending he was an astronaut, and Cooper had learned why you watch where your thumb is when hammering a nail.

Without a word, Blaine's father had reached an arm around Blaine and gripped his shoulder with one hand.

* * *

><p><em>A dark world aches for a splash of the sun<em>

It wasn't always easy, but they were trying. That summer, Blaine and his father restored a car. It was supposed to be a time for them to bond and talk about things, but Blaine pulled away instead. He didn't mention the bullying that was going on at school, too afraid to admit that he hated getting up to go there every morning. His mother worried about him enough and he couldn't add to that. It seemed that someone had told a friend and soon enough word got out that Blaine was gay.

Blaine tried to ignore the staring and the whispers. The words written in marker on his locker and on notes passed to him in class. He pretended not to care when some of his friends stopped eating lunch with him. Not everyone had abandoned him, but it was enough. He told himself that the other kids would go back to ignoring him soon.

"Have courage B," Cooper always said, "You're the bravest kid I know. You'll be okay."

_Courage._

The scariest phone call the Anderson family received came on a night that was supposed to be about joy. Blaine was going to a dance with a friend. His parents chose not to comment on the fact that this friend was also a gay boy. They were sitting in the living room watching some mindless competition reality show when the phone rang.

"Is this the Anderson residence?" an unfamiliar voice asked the moment Blaine's mother had picked up the phone, "It was listed under the ICE contact in Blaine Anderson's cell phone."

"Um, yes," she felt her lungs constrict, "May I ask who this is?"

"I'm with the Westerville PD. There's been an incident."

Blaine thought that he could go to a dance with a boy. It hadn't seemed like such a big deal, until a group of his tormentors beat him into the ground and he ended up in the hospital.

* * *

><p><em>And so I run now to the things they said could restore me, Restore life the way it should be<em>

The first two days that he was at Dalton, Blaine called Cooper eighteen times. All of the changes he was being forced through were starting to become reality. Sometimes he would sit for two hours and just listen to Cooper babble about anything he could think of – movies and classes and _Jersey Shore_ – and sometimes they sat in silence. Cooper did everything he could for Blaine, but it didn't change the fact that he was miles away.

Cooper tried to convince him to see a counselor, but the one that he'd had to talk to in the hospital had just checked things off a list and sent him on his way. Cooper begged Blaine to at least call him any time, day or night. He tried to explain that life would get better. Blaine had escaped the bullies and the hate; he could find acceptance and love in this new place.

To Blaine, it didn't seem to get any better. Every reassurance from Cooper seemed empty and hollow compared to the voice taunting him and screaming at him in the back of his mind. How could he believe that the hatred he had experienced first hand wouldn't follow him?

He couldn't trust these strangers that lived around him; the idea that they would accept who he was without judgement seemed like nothing more than a naive fantasy. The hope that things would get better wasn't strong enough to combat the reality of the pain.

It would be so easy to end it all. Blaine lost count of the number of times he pictured it. A bottle of pills, or a rope. A razor blade. He got so close sometimes, and then life – goddamn _life_ – would get in the way. One of his floormates would stop by to ask about homework or Cooper would call, and Blaine would lose his nerve.

And then suddenly it wasn't enough. Blaine began to feel the pressure of a private school combined with pressure to find friends; Cooper was busy with his own exams and he and Blaine rarely had time when it was easy for both of them to talk. He didn't have anyone to turn to, and suddenly he was by himself with his thoughts, that evil hiss in his ear.

_'Freak.'_

_'Of course you're alone. You're always alone.'_

_'You're always going to be alone.'_

He couldn't stand it.

* * *

><p><em>One more spoon of cough syrup now<em>

Cooper was home for the weekend the second time the scariest phone call the Anderson family received happened. Blaine had only been at Dalton for a few months when the phone call came in.

"Is this the Anderson residence?" an unfamiliar voice asked, but this time it was Cooper on the other end of the line, "It was listed under the ICE contact in Blaine Anderson's cell phone."

"Yes, this is his brother speaking," Cooper replied, feeling the panic begin to creep up his throat.

"Are your parents home? Your brother Blaine is in the hospital, it appears he tried to commit suicide-"

"What hospital is he being taken to?" Cooper demanded, already moving to the door with his car keys in his hand. He dialed his father's cell phone number even as he doubled the speed limit to get to the hospital.

"Dad, you have to come now."

* * *

><p>Their parents were dealing with doctors and insurance and paperwork, but Cooper's only concern was Blaine. Blaine, who looked so small in a hospital bed made to fit all sizes of people. Blaine, who was selfless and kind and hated for something he couldn't help. Blaine, who had tried to bleed himself to death. Cooper was slumped in the chair next to Blaine's bed, watching the rise and fall of his baby brother's chest, making sure that he was breathing.<p>

His thoughts began to pile up inside his head and before he could stop himself he was yelling. He jumped to his feet and began to pace back and forth at the foot of Blaine's bed.

"You can't die on me B. You can't decide that your life isn't worth living! You are worth it! And I want you to see that! Dammit Blaine wake up!" the last part came out choked with a sob, and Cooper gripped Blaine's limp hand so tightly between his own, afraid to ever let go again. He pressed their combined fist to his forehead and tried to stop himself from screaming again. He didn't notice the hand that he was holding so tightly begin to grip him back.

"Coop?" a tiny voice.

"I'm sorry I made you angry," Blaine whispered.

Cooper dropped to his knees beside the bed, "God _no_, B. I love you, and I wish I could take away all of your pain.

"Sometimes I just feel like my head's going to explode," he should have been screaming. Why wasn't Blaine screaming? Cooper knew he was still screaming on the inside. He wanted to start screaming again just from listening to desperation in his brother's voice, "I can't shut out all the voices that I keep picturing. I'm not good enough. I'm a fag. I'm wrong. I could change this if I wanted to. No one wants me. I'd be better off. _Everyone_ would be-"

He couldn't even finish without choking.

"Well those voices you're hearing? They're wrong," Cooper stared at Blaine with such conviction in his eyes that Blaine could almost believe him.

* * *

><p><em>Life's too short to even care at all oh, I'm losing my mind losing my mind losing control <em>

Blaine rediscovered music during his recovery. He'd learned piano as a child and he was much better than Cooper, who had never had the patience for it. Blaine eventually learned to play guitar, but he'd given up on all of it during the worst of his time at Westerville. At Dalton he wrote poems and in the hospital he started writing songs. He would play for Cooper every afternoon: songs he'd written, songs he'd learned, sometimes he would just strum whatever note or rhythm was in his mind.

They were sitting on Blaine's hospital on the last day after all the packing up and goodbyes had been done. Blaine was dressed in street clothes to get back to school and he was wearing shoes for the first time in days. Cooper sat crossed legged at the foot of the bed, watching Blaine pick at a loose thread in the blanket for a few moments before he practically lunged across the small gap between them.

Blaine suddenly found himself wrapped up in arms and warmth and familiarity and _Coop_. He clutched at his brother like a lifeline and buried his face in Cooper's shoulder.

"I know it feels like you'll never get there," Cooper murmured in his ear, because this was for Blaine only, "But you're going to find everything you've ever wanted, and you're never going to regret staying."

They'd decided on staying. Cooper hated the word suicide, perhaps more than Blaine did.

"How can I know that?" Blaine whispered back, unsteady and afraid, "I can't trust that things will get better."

"I know," Cooper admitted, just as terrified of being wrong, "But you can trust me."

* * *

><p><em>If I could find a way to see this straight, I'd run away, To some fortune that I should have found by now<em>

And it would get better. Blaine would settle in at Dalton, and join the Warblers. He would become popular and maybe even start to feel a little less lonely. Almost all of his scars would fade and disappear, except a few that would remind him of a darker time. Then, a year after he had left behind horrible memories of people who hated him, he would meet a boy on a staircase and befriend him. He would go through a lot of changes because of this boy; he would find a little of who he had been before hatred had ripped it away, and he would find a lot of who he wanted to be.

He'd fall in love, and he'd call Cooper to say thank you.

"For what, B?" Cooped would laugh, "I gave you some pretty words to use instead of 'Uh' and 'Fuck me on this table-"

"Shut up! I'm trying to be grateful and loving and a good brother, and you're being vulgar," Blaien would snort, "Thank you for never giving up on me. Even when I gave up on myself. For-for everything. Just thank you."

"I love you, kid," Cooper would say in utter seriousness and Blaine's disgusted face would soften into a smile, "And I hope I get to meet this Kurt some day."

* * *

><p><em>One more spoon of cough syrup now<em>

Blaine would sit in a circle on a stage with his friends, three years after the dance that changed his life, two and a half years after that conversation in the hospital. In the back of his mind he would be planning his one year anniversary with his boyfriend. His gorgeous, compassionate boyfriend whom was sitting across from him and looking at him like they were the only two people in the room.

David Karofsky was scared, and Blaine could understand where he was. He would bring David a bouquet of flowers and talk to him about everything and anything. He would tell David his story and be the living proof that it gets better. He would let David cry, and later Kurt would let him cry (and maybe Kurt would cry a little too).

Mr. Schue was talking about how tempted he had been to commit suicide – and there was that word, the one word Blaine could barely choke out even to himself – and being so close to that ledge. Blaine could feel his entire body tense. He heard their opinions, the opinions of people who had never felt the way he had, the opinions that were trying to understand something that even he could quite fathom. Even if Mr. Schuester's story hadn't been the most dramatic, it was honest, it was real. The tipping point was paper thin and razor sharp. Blaine knew that, and he knew that he was supposed to share his own tale now.

"_No matter what you say, I'm going to support you," Kurt had said when they discussed it the day before, "It's your story to tell, and I know they're idiots, but they won't judge you. They love you. I love you. And you don't have to do this if you don't want to."_

So when he said, "I'm looking forward to marriage equality in all 50 states."

He was backing down. He had been there. He had been closer than any of them. Kurt was watching him, the concern buried deep. They were going to have a talk later, Blaine knew, but he couldn't do it. He wasn't ready. He reflexively ran his thumb across his wrist, feeling the ridge of scar tissue that was barely noticeable.

Kurt knew, and Kurt didn't judge him. The New Directions loved him, and maybe he would tell them soon. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not, but for now he had Kurt; and Cooper. And for now, that was enough.

_One more spoon of cough syrup now_

_One more spoon of cough syrup now_

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><p>Author's Note: I don't have much to say here. If you have any questions about the writing or my thoughts and especially if you need to talk, my inbox is always open.<p> 


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